


Misconceptions

by Sinkme



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Assassins are worse, Explicit Language, Gen, References to Suicide, Spies are complicated, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Violence, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinkme/pseuds/Sinkme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the movies, secret agents are always the coolest characters. Dark, mysterious, badass. Everyone walks out of the theater wishing they led that life. </p><p>Tony Stark, despite all of his own larger-than-life skills and secrets, wishes for that too. </p><p>By the time he really understands what it means to be a secret agent, though, he regrets it.<br/>Mostly because those lessons were delivered first-hand by Clint and Natasha. And none of them came easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lies that Hollywood tells you

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. I have about 22 chapters outlined at the moment, most with less than a sentence and a half-formed idea. There is definitely no set schedule for updating.
> 
> If you have ideas or want to collaborate or anything I'd love to get your input in what I hope will turn into a huge awesome project.

Tony always thought being a secret agent would be cool.

It was one of those things he thought about as a kid and the impression had always stayed with him. The shows and movies he watched when he was little didn't really do anything to dissuade him from that notion and he had several favorite characters that he pretended to be when he was sneaking into his father's lab.

As a rational adult he knew better, but those initial childish thoughts stuck and he still kept that image of spies and secret agents with him.

How suave they were all dressed up in tuxedos or evening gowns.

How dashing they were when they swooped in to save the day.

How brave they were when they stared down an armed bad guy.

How kickass they were when they took someone out.

He revisited the idea a couple of times when he was held in Afghanistan, thinking about what-ifs and, in his darker moments, escaping to the shows he'd watched as a kid to take him away from the dark hell he currently lived.

When he got out, after Iron Man and Obie and the fallout, he held Agent Coulson in his mind and tried not to be disappointed.

Later, much later, after the palladium, after Rhodey and Vanko and Hammer, he had to revisit that old thought. Quiet, competent, unassuming Coulson became quiet, competent, unassuming, _scary_ Agent Coulson.

And he meets more of SHIELD's finest.

Fury is controlled, intimidating, and dangerously informed. With the leather trenchcoat and the eyepatch he could have jumped right out of a television program. Somehow the thought doesn't really diminish the man's presence.

Natalie Rushman- _Natasha Romanov_ \- however. She's different. Gorgeous, deadly, calm, he could probably use another thirty adjectives to describe her and not even scratch the surface. She's fluid; changeable. He'd seen the lies and the poise, the clear head under fire and the way she could switch from a quiet and demure assistant to a fiery and terrifying agent in a heartbeat. Happy had told him how she'd taken out a dozen guards to his one and he'd believed him based only on the not so distant memory of her performance in his boxing ring.

Satisfied with his encounters, he was ready to walk away from them. Remain a consultant, but cut his other ties with SHIELD. _Iron Man, Yes. Tony Stark, Not Recommended._

And then there was the Tesseract Incident. The Avengers. Now it's missions and briefings. Teammates, training, and slowly- very slowly- friendships and trust.

He regrets now that he learned what it really took to be a secret agent. Undoubtedly, the overwhelming majority of that regret stems from the fact that by the time his fantasies were well and truly shattered, he'd come to really care about Clint and Natasha as friends.


	2. So it goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is curious. Natasha makes him regret it.

It wasn't until a few months after the Loki incident that his first perception of secret agents was shattered.

Barton and Romanov had been reluctantly moved into the Tower by Director Fury. Tony got away with calling her Natasha and he quickly learned not to try any other nickname, so it was either that, Romanov, or occasionally Widow- if he was feeling snarky.

There were brief moments- always off duty and almost always when the archer was with Natasha- that Tony saw a bit of life in Barton and thought it was a real shame that they weren't better friends.

Those moments were few and far between, however, and they were on a last name basis for well over a year after the battle. That didn't mean that Tony didn't try out some nicknames with him as well, but he never went for just 'Clint' and Barton never offered.

They were reassigned to the Tower and he'd made some smartass response about them missing his shining personality but Barton hardly had any inflection in his reply, "No. Kinda hard to do recon and undercover ops when your face is still all over the news."

Natasha didn't seem as put out, "We'll get something soon. Spying was always your second best skill anyway."

Barton shrugged, "Spar?"

She nodded and they walked off towards the training rooms. Two minutes later Tony realized that this was their first time in the Tower and they'd known exactly where to go.

Over the next couple of months he stopped counting the missions they were sent on. In the back of his head he knew their exact number combined (twenty seven) but he blocked it out as best he could.

It was during Barton's fourth solo mission post-Loki that he got a lesson in what served as Barton's first best skill. And then promptly wished he'd remained ignorant.

The archer had been off in some country in Africa (Mali? Malawi?) and was piloting the jet back himself. Natasha was waiting up for him and Tony had been bored enough to sit with her. He'd filled the silence with his usual rambling, until he decided to use the time to his advantage.

"So, these missions, what are they usually like?"

She glared at him.

"No, really. I've only consulted on the cases with weapons or technology, usually mine, and I run point on the missions I want to go on. I don't think the invasion counts as a traditional mission. I'm curious." He gave her his best puppy dog eyes.

She was unmoved.

"Ok, I'll settle for what you do on your missions. Barton said you can't do much spying and snooping yet so what else is there?"

She laughed. Honest to God laughed. To be fair it was short and more of an extended snort, but he was shocked nonetheless.

Natasha looked at him, really looked at him, and said in that condescending tone, "You know what we do, Stark."

He was silent, unwilling to answer because he wasn't sure she really wanted him to. He'd thought about it before, said it to Loki, but there was something about saying it aloud here, saying it to her, that made it seem real.

It was a childish thought because he was entirely too aware of what she and Barton did for SHIELD. It came in his darker moments; he wasn't completely blind to what SHIELD was, but for some reason he'd always separated Barton and Natasha from all that.

Finally he caved in the wake of her silence. "You're spies. Assassins."

"So why did you ask? Do you really want all the details?" She was challenging him now, damn her, because she knew he wouldn't back down.

His silence was all she needed.

Her voice was soft, hypnotizing, "Do you want to know what it's like to enter a country, knowing you're there to end a man's life? To watch him for days on end, learning everything about him to find the most opportune time to kill him. You see him with friends, with family. He doesn't act like the monster you've been told he is. He has nieces and nephews and he's good with them, makes them smile and laugh.

"You have to remind yourself of all the things he's done, have to reconcile the man you're watching with the man you know he really is. So you pick your spot and give yourself a time frame, knowing that he has no idea what's coming. He has no idea that all the things he said he'd do tomorrow, all the things he put off, all his hopes and dreams will end and you'll be the cause.

"You try to control as many variables as possible, you choose your method carefully. Depending on how much he's pissed off SHIELD, it can be obvious that it's murder or it can look like natural causes or even an accident.

"Barton likes to set up in his nest and wait for the perfect moment to fire. It makes the escape easier because no one sees the shot coming. I prefer something up close and personal. I'm not picky about the method. I like it because there's a thrill you get when-"

"Fuck, stop. Stop. I get it," he felt more than a little sick.

"This is what we do, Stark," she continued.

"How?" There were a hundred questions in that word.

She shrugged, her voice light but there was a darkness in her eyes, "It used to be because it was all I've ever known. Because I'm good at it. But since then I've seen good people die for worse reasons. If my actions take out someone who is a threat, I won't lose any sleep over it."

He knew the horror he felt was expressed plainly on his face, saw her minute flinch at his obvious abhorrence over her blasé explanation.

She was on her feet, quietly muttering, "So it goes," as she walked by him.

Later he sat with a drink and sipped it slowly, absentmindedly refilling as he went, her words playing back in his mind. There was something dark and fitting about her words and he poured himself another drink.

"So it goes," he whispered to the walls.


	3. Awareness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has to reconsider his intelligence when he wakes Natasha up unexpectedly

Natasha was lying on the couch, surprisingly asleep, and Barton was getting something from the kitchen. Tony's need to show-off his newest toy to someone outweighed his common sense and he registered Barton's shout of "Don't!" just seconds before his hand touched her shoulder.

Her eyes snapped open, her body tensed, and suddenly Barton was there, pushing Tony away and being forced to the ground by Romanov.

She'd pulled a knife from somewhere and Barton hadn't been able to stop her from opening a cut under his chin but he caught her wrists and used his hips and legs to propel himself on top of her.

They were both breathing heavily and Barton let go of her free hand to cup her cheek and force her eyes to his. He spoke quietly but urgently, "Natasha, it's Clint. You're in Stark's tower. You're safe."

Tony watched from his place on the floor, still thoroughly shocked at what had just happened. He wondered idly why he'd never really thought that Natasha might have a violent reaction to being woken up and vowed to reconsider the notion.

He was surprised at the lack of reaction she had to waking up properly with Barton straddling her and a knife in her hand.

"Who?" she growled.

"Stark."

"Oh."

Barton sat back on his ankles and pulled her up as he stood. She hid the knife again and turned to glare down at Tony before walking away gracefully.

Tony found his voice after a beat of silence, "The hell was that?"

Barton turned to him and Tony couldn't help but stare at the blood snaking down the man's throat from where Natasha's knife had found him. It didn't seem to bother Barton.

"I would suggest not doing that in the future, in case the lesson hasn't stuck," Barton's voice was neutral.

"Uh, no, it stuck. I guess that goes for you too?"

A glare made it obvious that Barton thought his question was too dumb for a real answer, and Natasha returned a moment later with some medical supplies.

Tony remained on the floor; content for the moment to watch her work and neither showed their irritation if his presence bothered them.

Barton tilted his head back silently, presenting the underside of his chin to her and exposing his throat. His trust in her was obvious. She wiped the blood away and then swabbed the cut with antiseptic.

Barton broke the silence first, "Stitches?"

Tony started at that, shocked that stitches appeared to be a viable option. Natasha considered it silently for a moment and then shook her head, "More trouble than it's worth."

He was even more surprised that she hadn't said that they weren't needed, just that stitches were too much of a hassle. Huh.

Barton accepted her judgment and folded up some gauze to hold over the deepest part of the cut. She applied an adhesive and then wiped away the blood that had leaked out after her first swipe. Barton gave her a nod and then left the room to be wherever it was that he spent his time.

Natasha turned to look at him, "Thought you were a genius, Stark."

"Debatable at the moment, obviously. To be fair though, that is the first time that anyone's reacted like that when I touch them. Usually it's much more pleasurable." He gave her a wide smile.

She wasn't amused, "Don't do that again. Clint won't always be there to save your ass."

"Noted. Barton already gave me the rundown. Any more advice from the assistant coach?" he snarked.

"Don't _ever_ try to wake up Clint," she paused and frowned. "Or Thor. Or Cap. And Banner's probably not a good idea either."

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, mother."

She took a step closer, "I'm serious, Stark. I would have cut your throat open and there wouldn't have been a thing anyone could do."

There was silence and the words lingered between them. He wasn't sure if it was shock or apathy, but for some reason he didn't feel the weight of her words like he knew he should.

He bit his tongue rather than say what he wanted to. Say that she knew all about killing men quickly so what was one more death to her. He wasn't a friend, and he didn't think she'd feel anything other than annoyance had she actually cut him.

The silence stretched on and Natasha was gone when he looked up again.


	4. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a cliche is used, even though it totally fits in the story line.

They were in the locker room, getting changed to go through some training exercises when Clint came in. He'd obviously just finished his own session and sweat clung to his brow and arms although that was the only sign of his recent workout.

Rogers badgered Bruce and Tony into logging some time on the mats and Bruce was too nice to tell the Captain to shove it so they'd both trooped in behind Steve.

In the changing room Bruce was almost adorably shy and Steve was just modest enough to be funny. He and Barton didn't share those qualities but it was an unwritten rule to not cross certain lines in the locker room.

Which was why he felt bad when Barton caught him staring.

"Something I can help you with, Stark?" he didn't sound angry, or even irritated. He had a towel wrapped around his hips and his back was still turned as he looked around in his locker for something.

"Clint," Bruce's soft exclamation took care of his silence and brought Steve's attention to the archer as well. Barton turned to face them; confusion momentarily flashed across his face when he found their horror-stricken faces staring at him.

"Clint, what happened?" Steve took a couple of steps closer to Barton who matched the steps with his own in the other direction. Their eyes flitted over his body, taking in each mark they could see.

Tony had no doubt that there were more scars that they couldn't see; either covered by the towel or faded with time. There was still a horrifying amount left behind though. He had his share of scars from Afghanistan and the life of someone who worked with tools but this was _damage._ This was intentional. This was someone causing deliberate harm.

He'd seen marks on Barton's arms, hard not to with the sleeveless uniform, but most of the scars there were from his bow; lines on his arms and hands from the bowstring. A few hints of missions gone wrong, but nothing like what was visible now.

Barton's stance suddenly shifted and his face went blank. If it was anyone else Tony would think he was being self-conscious but Barton looked too defensive and combative to be suddenly shy.

"Missions," Barton grunted out, staring down each of them in turn, daring them to dig deeper.

If he could find his voice he knew he'd ask the question but as it was he was trying to shake off the horrible things his imagination was producing and trying to avoid being sick. Memories of a cave in Afghanistan had him biting his cheek and clenching his fists.

He didn't need much imagination to connect the small puckered scars to the bullets that must have left them, or the multiple raised lines to the weapon that broke skin and muscle. It was unfathomable how much damage Clint's body had taken. The worst part was that, from the groupings and the fading, most of the scars looked to have been inflicted at the same time. His mouth went dry at the thought. 

Bruce didn't have the same problem because his voice, though very strained, broke the silence, "What missions, Clint?"

"They're classified," Barton's voice was hard and his eyes were harder. Tony wouldn't have believed that a man in a towel could look so dangerous but there you go.

Steve, bless his noble spirit, wouldn't take that as an answer, "Missions for SHIELD?"

Barton's glare answered that question but somehow Tony understood what Steve really meant and managed to ask, "Was this part of the plan or…?"

"We're not talking about this," Barton growled.

"Clint, who did that to you?" Bruce yelled.

They were all surprised at Bruce's tone and even more so when they saw a little bit of green start to creep up the doctor's neck.

Tony and Steve turned to calm Bruce down; when they looked back to Clint, he was already dressed and halfway out the door. 

"Clint!" Steve called after him, but the archer didn't hesitate in his speedy exit.

"Well that went well," Tony said, trying and failing to shake off the image of too many scars.

Steve ignored him and turned back to Bruce, "What set you off?"

Bruce still looked mad but he answered quietly, "I've traveled to a lot of bad areas trying to help people. I learned what torture looked like pretty fast."

 _"Torture?"_ Steve spluttered and turned to look back at the door that Barton had walked through.

It was obvious that no one knew what to say.

They walked on eggshells around Barton for days after that until the archer had snapped at them, "Goddamnit, I'm not going to break."

Steve tried to mediate, "We never said you were fragile, Clint. We're just concerned."

Barton snorted, "Why? Most of it happened years ago. Anything you try to do would just be beating a dead horse. I have a handle on it. So leave it alone."

"Not sure it's possible to make that worse," Tony offered.

"Try me and see," Clint returned. The tone was mocking but his eyes were dead serious.

Tony left it alone.


	5. Training I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony learns what it means to pay attention to detail

They're freakishly aware of everything. It started with innocuous comments about small changes.

Natasha remarked that they'd changed the coffee. Barton stared longer at the walls in the den when Pepper switched out the pictures being displayed. Natasha nudged Tony when Bruce was being too quiet. Clint looked suspiciously around the kitchen if Thor added Gatorade to the chicken when it was the god's turn to cook.

Tony took to it like a game. Spot the differences.

They never disappointed although he hoped they weren't aware that he'd made up a point system. He knew they knew that it was him changing things. Mostly because of the things they threw at his head after they noticed that he'd purposefully changed something.

Clint dragged him aside one day, "Stop messing with things. It's putting us both on edge."

He didn't need to ask who 'us both' was. "Whatever do you mean?"

Barton rolled his eyes and grabbed Tony's arm again, pulling him along behind him.

Tony complained obligingly, although he was honestly curious as to where he was being taken.

He should have guessed it was the training rooms. He swore Clint and Natasha spent more time here than anywhere else.

"Shut your eyes."

He complied, "Ok, but you had better have clothes on when I open them again. Or should I start stripping too?"

"How many exits?"

"What?" he almost opened his eyes in surprise.

"How many exits are in the room?" He could _hear_ the frown in Clint's tone.

"Um…two?"

"Didn't you design this room?" Now it was derision.

"Are we counting normal people exits or assassin-bird-people-exits?"

Clint didn't answer.

"Alright, fine. Two exits. Final answer."

"Wrong. How many windows?"

"Come on, man. Seriously?"

Silence.

"Ugh, um. Seven rows by four columns. Twenty eight."

"Wrong."

"What?" his eyes did sneak open at that.

"Shut 'em." Clint snapped. "How many weapons?"

"Ok, now you're being mean. I get it, alright? Message delivered."

"I don't think you do, Stark."

Tony opened his eyes again, "Try me."

"There are seven exits in this room. Forty-eight windows. Exactly seventeen guns, each with a loaded clip and one extra, two bostaffs, one shield, and fourteen knives. Steve walked in the door behind me when I was asking you about the windows but left when he saw us," Clint glared and his voice sharpened. "This isn't a party trick we picked up to impress the donors. Tactical awareness is something we've been trained in for years, it's something that's been burned into us. So all those little things you keep changing, no matter how innocent you think it is, puts us on edge. And if you hate us when we're in mission-mode, you'd really hate to see us on edge."

Tony wouldn't be Tony if he could keep his mouth shut, "How can moving a painting set you off?"

He could actually see Clint weighing the benefit of answering him against what he was sure was a large desire to just walk away. Or punch him and then walk away.

"Noticing those kinds of details could point to an intruder or an imposter. If Pepper takes her coffee a certain way every morning and then suddenly switches to tea, that should prompt a question. If we're eating dinner and Thor decided to try something new we have to know immediately if whatever he added was deliberate or if it could be harmful or even deadly. Something different in a room, even a painting being moved, could mean that someone was snooping around or left a listening device."

Tony raised an eyebrow, seeing Barton's point but not really willing to concede altogether.

"That paranoia can't be good for your health," he mock pouted.

"That paranoia is what's kept me alive long enough to be 'unhealthy'," Clint returned.

Tony conceded with his hands in the air, palms up. "Whatever floats your boat. Thor and Pepper you have to deal with on your own, but anything that might have been happening on my end will cease."

Barton nodded and left without a glance back and Tony waited until the man was out of earshot.

"Jarvis, scan outgoing frequencies, see if there's anything transmitting that isn't one of mine."


	6. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony and the Avengers learn the hard way that 'assassin' isn't a title given out freely, and the mentality that comes with the job is hard to understand.

"Robots? Really?" Tony whined. In all honesty they weren't awful to deal with, but as a rule he tried to avoid them after his fight against Obadiah.

"Death toll is already in triple digits, Stark. Suit up," Rogers called as he jumped on the jet.

Tony frowned at that and ran a little faster.

Clint and Natasha were already on board, as was Bruce. Thor followed him into the jet and then they were taking off.

"So what's the deal?" Tony asked.

Bruce answered, his voice a little subdued and an odd look in his eyes, "It's Hammer."

Well that was a punch in the gut.

"Hammer's been quiet since the whole Vanko incident. Why now?" Tony turned to Natasha, the only one of the group who was already very familiar with the incident at the last Stark Expo.

She snorted, "If you think he's been quiet you need to pay better attention. This is the fourth incident in the country in as many weeks and there have been even more incidents across Europe and Asia with his tech and schematics."

"He's selling it?" Bruce asked.

"As often as he can," Natasha confirmed. "And to as many groups as he can. From what we can tell, this was a buy that got out of hand. Clients wanted to test the goods and set them on the city. Hammer should still be in the area and he's priority number one."

"You mean after the poor innocent civilians?" Tony asked, only half sarcastically.

The silence stretched out until it became uncomfortable and Steve cleared his throat, "Hammer's number two. We get the civilians out and remove the threat. He can't get very far."

"You do what you want, I'm getting Hammer," Clint growled. "I've been the one following his messes and dealing with the fallout for weeks and if that little weasel gets away he'll sell more weapons and hurt more people."

Steve turned to give Clint a hard look but Clint, despite having to fly the plane, managed to return it with a steely glare of his own.

Tempers were running high when they landed but despite their earlier vehemence, Clint and Natasha both acquiesced to Steve's orders and Clint took his perch without fuss.

Tony had no doubt that even as they fought the bots they both had an eye out for Justin. Barely ten minutes after they'd landed Clint's voice came over their earpieces, "Thor, Hammer's to your left, he just ducked behind the building. Secure him!"

There was a beat of silence and when no contradicting order came from Steve, Thor replied, "Understood, Hawk."

The fight didn't last long. SHIELD had already been on-site to take the buyers down when the bots were set loose so once the perimeter had been established, it was just a matter of finishing quickly.

Clint was on the ground with Natasha by the time Thor came back holding Hammer by the scruff of his jacket.

"Hey, now, watch it," Hammer adjusted his glasses. "Anthony, great to see you. Love the suit. New model?"

"It's over, Hammer," Tony stared hard at the man.

Hammer smiled and then laughed, "Really? I got out before. I'll do it again. Too many people want my tech to leave me wasting away for long. Especially now that Stark weapons hardly exist anymore."

Steve and Bruce had joined and the six of them formed a half circle in front of the weapons manufacturer.

Clint had a disturbing grin on his face as he turned to Natasha and Tony got an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"May I?" Barton asked her almost maniacally.

"Please do," Natasha looked over to the SHIELD agents on the ground and got a nod before turning back to Clint. "You're clear."

"Excellent."

One practiced motion later, Clint's gun was clear of its holster and the reverberating sound of a bullet being fired shook them all.

Tony hardly noticed Hammer fall, he was too busy staring in horror at Clint to notice the nauseating amount of blood pooling around the man's body.

"What the fuck Barton?" He shoved the man hard, not judging the appropriate force caused by his suit, and missed the grimace of pain that crossed Barton's face.

Neither backed down though and it took a moment for Tony to realize that Steve had joined him as well until they were shouting over each other in their anger at Clint.

"-unarmed man-"

"-assassin with no conscience-"

"-murdered in our custody-"

"-with a damn smile on your face-"

"-we're the good guys-"

"Enough!" Thor's booming voice demanded silence. Natasha had moved to stand with Barton and both were glaring hard at Steve and Tony.

Bruce and Thor stood in the middle, looking between the four of them.

Steve, uncharacteristically angry, spoke first, "We don't kill unarmed prisoners in cold blood, Clint. We had him secured and SHIELD could have taken him into custody, given him a trial."

"You can't possibly be that naïve, Cap. SHIELD was never going to take him into custody. And even if they did, SHIELD prisoners don't get trials; they get chucked in a cell. We got the green light to take Hammer out-" Clint gestured to the man's body and growled, "Mission accomplished."

Clint and Natasha turned and joined the SHIELD agents containing the area, leaving the other four Avengers to stand alone. Tony and Steve were still fuming, Bruce was quiet and Thor looked after Clint and Natasha contemplatively.

"There is no honor in killing an unarmed opponent," Thor said quietly, not meeting his teammates' gazes. "But neither do we Aesir make a habit of imprisoning dangerous enemies. In this instance I do not believe I can find fault with them."

"You're taking their side?" Tony demanded angrily.

"There aren't _sides_ , Tony," Bruce put a hand on his shoulder but Tony shook him off.

"Yes there are. We have lines that we won't cross. I'm pretty sure Barton and Natasha shot that line to death years ago and then laughed about it after," Tony glared and Bruce backed off.

It was childish, but no one protested when Tony sat in the jet's cockpit and flew them home without Clint or Natasha onboard. Thor and Bruce both looked uneasy but neither said a word.

Tony was still fuming two days later, despite the fact that neither Barton nor Natasha had been anywhere near the Tower in that time. Steve was still upset but he was willing to make peace; Tony held out stubbornly. Not that it mattered. By the time Bruce went behind their backs to call Fury, he'd been told that both assassins had taken up residence on the Helicarrier again and at the moment they were both on separate missions.

Tony used that as a further proof of their lack of conscience; both agents were already back to doing what they did best.

For the next three weeks they had no contact with either Clint or Natasha. Fury was less than forthcoming with information when they could muster up the will to ask him, so the matter was dropped. It seemed as though they were down to four members and each of them was looking shaky in the wake of the emotional backlash from the situation.

Tony's not sure that things would have changed if they hadn't gotten a call from Fury telling them that Natasha had been taken in the course of a mission and there was no trace of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My understanding of what SHIELD does with prisoners is limited exclusively to the Avengers movie and Earth's Mightiest Heroes, therefore to the best of my knowledge when someone is captured by SHIELD, they're chucked in whatever dark hole will hold them best.   
> My understanding of what Aesir do with prisoners is entirely made up. I know only of the myth with Loki being imprisoned and tortured with the snake but Loki was a special case to my knowledge. Considering that in the movie, Odin left the Frost Giants without their source of power (pretty much imprisoning an entire race to their planet) and collects and stores those weapons in a vault, I can't really see him or any of the Aesir being too concerned with taking prisoners or treating them well.


	7. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony learns what duty to a partner and loyalty to SHIELD means to Clint and Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note additional warning and potential trigger for this chapter: implied suicidal themes/talks of suicide and torture. I caution anyone who needs it to take this chapter seriously because there are darker themes in here than have been present in the earlier chapters

"Eight days."

He almost punched Barton in the face despite knowing that the man could easily avoid it and take him out.

"What?" he snapped out, the familiar anger building. He was furious at even the thought of what Barton was suggesting, not to mention the old anger from the Hammer incident coming back.

"Don't test me on this, Stark," Barton sounded deadly but Tony has never been particularly smart in these kinds of situations so he pushed.

"It's already been one day and she missed her check-in by twelve hours. She's completely dropped off the map. No, you know what, forget the map. A map would be too easy. She could be anywhere. Literally _anywhere_ in the world. Her mission was in Libya, the sellers were from France, the buyers came from somewhere in Asia and the Russians might have dropped by just for kicks. And she vanished into thin air!"

"I know!" Barton yelled back.

Silence reigned for a moment and then Barton continued, his voice level and somewhat tight. "I'm going to Headquarters. Do not pursue this, Stark."

"No way. We're not gonna sit here with our thumbs up our asses while Natasha is God knows where. Swallow your ego, Barton. This is about finding her, not your pride."

And damn, he never thought he'd say those words to someone else.

There was no response but he didn't have to know Barton well to recognize the look of a man who was doing everything possible to avoid snapping.

Tony didn't relent, "She's our friend too, Barton. You don't get to give up on her and call it quits when the rest of us will keep fighting."

"You know nothing," Barton's voice was choked. "You were all too happy to wash your hands of us at the first opportunity. You don't get to play the concerned teammate now. Don't even pretend to think you understand what Natasha means to me-"

"Really? You have a funny way of showing it- coulda fooled me. 'Cause in my world, when someone you care about is hurt, you move heaven and earth to do whatever they need to make sure they get better. You don't set an impossible timeline and give up," he yelled.

Barton whirled, his fist punching through the drywall when he hit it, and left without a glance back.

\--------------------------------------------------

Tony was on his way to do whatever he could to convince Fury to tell them where Barton was so they could help when Coulson materialized out of nowhere.

He jumped back, cursing, "Jeez! Can't you people ever just walk up like a normal person?"

Coulson didn't bother answering. His voice was as bland as ever, "How's the search going?"

"Poorly. Your pal Barton wants to throw in the towel in eight days. Some partnership, huh?"

He was angry and confused and pushed by Coulson to continue on to Fury's office when Coulson's voice floated after him.

"I have something to show you, Stark. I think it'll help."

"Kind of on a mission here Coulson," he replied even as he felt the rise of curiosity within him.

Coulson didn't answer and Tony had to turn and jog a little to catch up. Coulson was ahead of him, a door down the hall cracked open and he pushed through.

The agent was sitting behind a desk, rooting through a filing cabinet and moving papers around.

"So whose office are we breaking into?" the silence bothered him.

"Mine."

"Oh. Nice colors. Who's your decorator?"

A light thump was his answer and he looked back to Coulson. There were several folders on the desk turned to face him. Coulson gestured with his hand and Tony sat opposite the agent, pulling open the one on top.

He read through it, feeling queasy, and looked up to Coulson, who answered his silent question.

"That was Agent Pierce. He was captured and interrogated for ten days. His mind was broken when we found him."

"What?" his voice was quiet, thick with confusion and the beginnings of grief.

There was a small but gentle smile and Coulson answered just as quietly, "Interrogation isn't like the movies show. And it isn't like what was done to you, Mr. Stark."

He bristled at the dismissal of his time in captivity but Coulson held up a hand for silence. "I understand and appreciate that your time in Afghanistan wasn't pleasant, but it was not an interrogation. It was coercion. At the end of the day they needed you to be in good health to make their weapon. You were given food and water, time to rest, and tools to work with. Captured agents aren't afforded those indulgences. Unfortunately your experiences were mild compared to the things some agents have faced."

His brain was making connections that he didn't want to consciously recognize but the name squeaked out anyway, "Barton?"

Coulson looked at him compassionately and Tony wanted to vomit, the memory of that day in the locker room slamming into him.

"There's a breaking point for everyone, a threshold that no one is immune to. Given enough time, everyone will reach that point. It always happens and it isn't pretty. They either talk or they break."

Tony swallowed reflexively while Coulson continued.

"Agent Pierce, like all agents, was trained in counter-interrogation techniques. He clung to sanity for six of his ten days in captivity because he had faith that his partner, Agent Brennan, would find him."

Coulson indicated the next file and Tony opened it to see Agent Brennan.

What was left of Agent Brennan.

"In the end it's what killed them both."

Tony slammed the files shut, unwilling to look at what had become of either agent anymore, and glared at Coulson.

"What's your point?"

He didn't get an answer, just a nod at the last file. It was thinner and he was shocked to see that it was about Barton. There were only a couple of sheets of paper and he absentmindedly realized that Coulson must have pulled out this one mission.

He read it over carefully, ignoring the squirming feeling in his stomach and the memory of Barton's scarred body.

Coulson started talking, his calm voice actually very welcome. "It was a difficult mission even without the unexpected interference. We would never have been able to get a ground force into the country as backup without compromising the mission so he was on his own. After they'd made him, Clint was able to stay ahead of them for a day but it was only a matter of time and he knew it. His last transmission before he was captured was a reminder of a promise he and Natasha had made."

"Eight days," Tony guessed grimly, wishing he could still be angry.

Coulson nodded, "They've both had enough experience to know their breaking point. It doesn't take long for their captors to realize who they have and then react accordingly. High profile agents like Clint and Natasha aren't given the luxury of breaks. Sleep deprivation and dehydration can be just as harmful as a knife or a fist. Anything past eight days is a risk."

"So if you guys hadn't recovered him by then…" he trailed off, suddenly wishing he hadn't asked.

Coulson wasn't so merciful, "If we hadn't found Agent Barton by the end of the eighth day we would have returned empty-handed and he would have been labeled missing but presumed dead. No further action would have been taken to recover him."

Tony couldn't sit anymore and his body and voice vibrated with anger as he paced, "That's sick! He's your friend. How can you just sit there and tell me you'd abandon him after only eight fucking days? Is this what I can expect now that I've joined up with you bastards? 'Cause I don't need this!"

"Sit down," Coulson's voice had an edge and he sank into the chair.

"I thought it would go without saying that Clint and Natasha are unique even among SHIELD agents. They are the only two to have anything like this. No one outside of myself and Director Fury are aware that it even exists and it is certainly not encouraged. SHIELD does not make a habit of abandoning their agents to torture."

Tony was getting desperate to understand, "Then why?"

"Because they have to," Coulson said simply. "They do it for each other as much as for themselves. It's something definite where there are otherwise no assurances. They both need that closure."

He could feel Coulson sizing him up and he must have seen something worthwhile because when he continued his tone was softer, "This isn't the first time Natasha's gone AWOL on a mission. She's an interrogation expert and if she sees the chance she'll do whatever it takes, even if it means being captured. Clint knows what to look for, he'll be able to track her."

Tony was silent, the information still bouncing around in his head, images and questions and raw emotions battling to be heard and an undertone of something much darker lurking just beneath the surface that he couldn't face yet. Overall was the lingering doubt that anyone, even Barton, even SHIELD, could track Natasha and recover her when she'd disappeared so completely.

He roughly shook his head and glared at Coulson.

"So, what, we're just supposed to sit on the bench and hope that Barton brings her back alive and in one piece?"

That familiar glint sprang back into Coulson's eye and the agent leaned back in his chair. His voice was like steel, "You can sit on the bench or I can taze you and then tie you to it. Your choice."

\--------------------------------------------------

When they passed the eight day mark with no word from Barton, Tony drank himself into oblivion and locked himself in his lab.

Jarvis gave Bruce the override code halfway through the next day and the man was pale but smiling, "They're back."

Tony was still hungover and hurting so he just blinked at Bruce uncomprehendingly.

"Clint just landed and Natasha's with him. She'll be in medical for awhile but she's gonna be ok."

Tony followed along numbly as Bruce pulled him to the medical ward where the rest of the team was waiting. Barton stood off to the side, just close enough to make it seem like he wasn't deliberately trying to separate himself from them. Despite the obvious relief at having them both back there was an air of awkward tension vibrating in the room. A quick glance to Steve showed him that the Captain was aware that this wasn't the best setting to hash out their still unsettled feelings about Hammer.

Barton was too complicated at the moment for his brain to process anyway, so he fixated on the only thing that would really help him heal, even a little, and ignored everyone else in favor of staring into Natasha's room through the glass.

She'd obviously been sedated and he couldn't watch the doctors stitching up the cuts without wanting to vomit up all the alcohol he'd drank last night, so he focused on her face. There was a black eye and a split lip that he didn't want to think about because he was far more likely to make bad decisions when he was inebriated and he wanted to stay here instead of flying to whatever hole Barton had pulled her out of to exact vengeance on the people who did this to her.

Bruce disappeared into her room and came out a moment with information for them.

"They're gonna keep her out for a couple days and give her time to recuperate. They're a little worried about an infection but she should be clear by then."

The relief was obvious for everyone and hesitant smiles broke out on everyone's face. When Tony looked back to Barton he wasn't surprised to find the corner empty.

As he sobered up all day he kept going over everything in his head and it came back to the same thing.

Unheeding of the time, because 2am was convenient for him at the moment, he asked Jarvis to locate Clint. Apparently in the time it took him to mull everything over, 'Barton' had become 'Clint.'

"Agent Barton is currently in the training room, sir."

"Thanks Jarvis." He was halfway across the room when Jarvis spoke again.

"Sir?"

"What, Jarvis?"

"Might I suggest waiting until Agent Barton does not have a weapon in his hands to speak with him?"

He didn't hesitate as he continued to the door, "He can kill me with his bare hands, Jarvis. I think I'd prefer an arrow actually."

He found Clint easily, the sounds echoing in the darkness. He was surprised to see Barton working with a knife instead of his bow. He moved around the punching dummy, trying to simulate a fight and alternately stabbing and cutting the dummy as he moved.

It wasn't very comforting to Tony so he didn't move closer and didn't try to catch Clint's attention until the man moved back from his fighting stance.

He made sure he had some cover in case Barton got spooked and threw the knife and then called out "Yo, feather head."

Barton barely turned his head to acknowledge him. Tony moved a little closer.

"Yeah, so um. Thanks for forgetting how to count."

Barton turned to glare at him, "What?" Somehow it sounded more like an insult than a question.

"The whole eight day thing."

Clint shook his head and turned away.

"I have to ask you something, but sensitive isn't really my thing so I'd appreciate a promise to not hit me after I mangle what's probably a delicate topic at best."

Clint flapped a hand at him but actually stopped moving.

"Guess that's the best I can hope for," he muttered before plowing ahead. "When you were captured-"

That was as far as he got before Clint was suddenly in his personal bubble.

"Who told you?" Barton growled.

He wasn't too proud to admit that he was genuinely scared of Barton in that moment. Tony's breath left him for a moment when the cost of the last week made itself apparent in Barton's frame. He looked gaunt and worn, the lines around his eyes and mouth were more pronounced and there were dark circles under the agent's eyes. Shadows played down the man's body but Tony suspected most of them were bruises. Certainly the one around his knuckles were indicative of the fight he'd put up to recover Natasha. None of this served to make the man less intimidating or any less likely to kick his ass. 

Despite that, he wasn't sure that he was willing to throw Coulson under the bus yet for ratting Clint out, so he tried lying.

"Made a guess. Your reaction confirmed it. Don't know the specifics, don't think I want to know, actually…" he trailed off and Clint was still staring at him.

"'A' plus for the glare. But anyway, when you were captured, Romanoff got you out?"

Silence reigned.

"I'll take that as a yes," his voice was softer and he really didn't want to ask the question he'd come to ask but he knew he had to. It was part of who he was and knowing that the question was there meant that he _had_ to have the answer. "Hypothetically, if she hadn't gotten there in time…what would have happened?"

Clint looked hard at him for several minutes and Tony stayed still, content just this once to be patient for his answer.

Finally, Clint spoke in slow, halting words, "When Nat found me I was pretty bad off. I wouldn't have been able to escape on my own. If she hadn't made it by the end of the last day I would have found a way to kill myself."

Tony took an involuntary step back and he knew the blood had drained out of his face. "What?"

Clint's smile was dead and his eyes were dark. "We made the eight day rule to protect SHIELD and to protect each other. You escape on your own if you're able. I expected her to do everything in her power to find me by the end of the eighth day. We both knew what would happen if she didn't."

"You'd really do it, wouldn't you?" Tony asked, torn between shocked awe and horror.

Barton favored him with a heavy look before speaking, "Did you ever ask Pepper what it was like, waiting all those weeks, not knowing if you were alive or dead? Could you have lasted that long if she went missing like you did?"

Tony's mouth went dry at the thought.

Clint must have seen the sudden understanding on his face because the archer continued, "So, yes. It's selfish, but knowing the alternative, what it would mean for her if she couldn't find me, what it would mean for me being stuck there waiting to die. That's a question she couldn't live with, a question _I_ couldn't live with."

He watched as Clint started grabbing the gear he'd brought with him and walked over to leave. Barton's voice drifted back from the door a moment later, "I found Nat two days ago. I had to stabilize her and then fly back. I made it to her in the eight day limit."

Tony had no answer, and the sound of the door closing was the only thing that echoed until the silence took over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nervous about this one because it's different from earlier chapters. I'm anticipating some people to disagree with the 'agreement' Clint and Natasha have but I'd appreciate any feedback you have. Not all chapters will be like this but most likely this will be the darkest this story will go


	8. Playing Dress Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony learns that Bond's suit isn't all it's cracked up to be.

They had a joint mission, from their unconcerned manner it seemed like an easy one, at least for them. Distantly Tony heard them going over their covers and then his ears perked when they mentioned the venue.

An honest-to-God ball. With dancing and fancy clothes and everything.

It was some art collection opening downtown and intel tentatively placed someone on SHIELD's shit list as a guest. More than likely this guy would have guards there with him, hence Clint and Natasha's mission to get past them and bring the man in alive. Their car was due to depart within the hour and Clint was still sitting at the table in jeans and a ratty t-shirt cleaning his gun and caring for his knives.

"You waiting for someone to help you get dressed?" Tony plopped down next to him.

"I only need ten minutes. Right now it's more important to stay out of Natasha's way. She'll come get me when she's ready."

Before Tony could ask, the lady herself marched in, hands on hips and in a similarly unprepared state of dress as Clint, "Have you seen my Ruger?"

"The pistol? You lent it to Pepper didn't you?" Clint seemed unconcerned.

Tony's mouth fell open a little in shock at that thought but neither paid him any mind. Clint continued, "I'll get it and look it over. We have forty minutes."

She glared, "I'll be ready."

"I know," Clint smirked and went to the elevator.

Natasha didn't move and Tony felt the need to repeat himself, "You waiting for someone to help you get dressed?"

She smacked him on the back of the head, "You couldn't handle it."

Clint was back a minute later, the small gun already partially disassembled in his hands. "Looks pretty good. Gimme a sec and I'll bring it in. You good to go?" Natasha nodded and disappeared back down the hallway.

Tony stared, somewhat lulled by the quiet and careful way that Clint cared for Natasha's gun before he broke the silence. "So why does Natasha need you to get ready?" Clint barked out a laugh and looked at Tony with amusement, "Oh, man, you are definitely not ready to handle that."

Clint continued to chuckle quietly while he reassembled the gun and stood, patting Tony on the shoulder as he left. Now very intrigued, Tony sat at the table to wait for them to leave. His fingers itched to pull out one of his tablets and pull up whatever video feeds they hadn't disconnected but his fear of being discovered by them outweighed his impatience.

With ten minutes to spare they both walked out and he couldn't help but stare. He couldn't figure out who to focus on first. Natasha was the more obvious but he already knew that she was stunning.

She'd downplayed her natural beauty with muted makeup and a tasteful up-do but it wasn't possible to diminish her appearance entirely. The black dress was conservative by Tony's standards but Natasha wore it beautifully and she had on a necklace and long earrings.

Clint- Tony had no problem admitting this about another guy- looked _good_. Tony had enough experience with suits to know that Clint's was custom-fitted. Even with traditional black and white the suit seemed somehow more. His hair wasn't gelled but it wasn't as messy as Tony was used to seeing on the archer.

Clint moved in the tux like it was his mission uniform, easy and confident, but he carried himself differently. It was hard to place where the change came from. Natasha moved easily as well, seemingly unaffected by the long dress and heels.

And then the spell was broken with Natasha's uncouth, "Fuck, I hate these heels. If I only end up crushing two toes I'll be lucky."

"Yeah, at least you don't have this thing choking you," Clint tugged at his tie.

"Cry me a river, Barton, anytime you want to switch you can strap a pistol to your thigh and parade around in a dress," Natasha snarked.

"Please, we both know you could fit another gun if you wanted to. You're just being lazy and making me carry all the hardware," Clint rolled his eyes and lifted his pants legs, showing off the gun and knife strapped there, and then flashing the gun tucked at the small of his back.

"Besides," Clint continued. "You get the easy job. All you have to do is stand there and look pretty."

" _Excuse me?_ " Natasha hissed and Tony scooted back several paces in his chair, recognizing the dangerous glint in her eye.

Clint didn't seem to have the same sense of self-preservation because he smirked. Natasha glared and punched his shoulder, "I have to dance, too, you know. And the easy job isn't the fun job, ass. Besides, if you wreck another suit taking down the target you'll have to start paying for them."

He shrugged, "Small price to pay for getting to take the fun part of the mission. Besides, it's easier replacing suits than trying to get the blood out on my own."

"Take it to the cleaner then," she seemed unconcerned. 

"And explain it how? 'I get massive nosebleeds, ignore the arterial gushing around the shoulder?'" Clint cracked, straightening his tie and grimacing. 

She smiled and touched her hair, "Do you have any bobby pins? It's gonna come loose in an hour or two."

Wordlessly he produced a handful and held them out to her, glancing at her face speculatively. "Your eyes aren't even, I'll touch them up in the car. We need to hurry."

They paid him no mind as they walked past him towards the elevator and only a smirking, "Don't wait up!" from Clint shook Tony out of his reverie for good.

"Huh," was the sum of all he could handle at the moment.


	9. Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you. Tony learns that taking preventative measures are necessary and that he really should stop prying.

They didn't have names in their phones.

He discovered it when Natasha made a face at the personalized ringtone and picture that popped up on his own phone when Rhodey called.

"Not a fan of Metallica?" he snarked, declining the call because it was Rhodey calling him on Pepper's behalf to remind him of something which meant he probably didn't need to do it immediately.

"It's a liability," Natasha replied.

"I don't judge your taste in music," he paused. "You do like music, don't you? Or were you trained to lose all personal tastes when you signed up?"

Romanoff, typically, didn't rise to the bait. "Phone numbers can be dangerous enough in the wrong hands, let alone names."

"No one's getting into my phone but me," Tony boasted.

"Every security system has a weakness," Natasha said firmly.

"Yeah, well what about you? You're so secure, let's see your phone." He was tired of her and Barton constantly acting superior to him.

The phone Natasha tossed at him was, to put it delicately, a piece of crap.

"Seriously, Romanoff? I thought we had enough to deal with already with an out-of-time super soldier and a god from another realm. Should we add you into their 'Introduction to Technology' class?"

"It does what I need it to," was the short response.

"What about internet?" Tony whined.

"Don't need it."

"What about missions?" Tony snarked, trying to catch the agent in something.

"SHIELD has encrypted phones for missions and my gear gets the rest done. All I need this phone to do is make calls and text."

"That's barbaric," Tony shuddered and scrolled through the contact list before blurting out in surprise, "You don't even have fifteen numbers in here."

"Yup," she shrugged. "That's probably even a couple too many."

"But they're just numbers. No names, no pictures. How is fifteen _numbers_ too many?" he continued to stare at her phone, shocked at the basic technology and the perceived misuse of even that limited memory chip.

"Most of those numbers are ones I don't feel like memorizing. They're important enough when I'm here that I might need one quickly, but not so much that if I lose the phone I'll be worse off. The rest are in case of emergency," she said nonchalantly, absently picking something from under her nails.

He carefully ignored what he hoped was innocent dirt and not something else under her nails to point out, "But if it's an emergency how will whoever finds you know which number to call?"

Her glare could curl wallpaper, "Emergency for me. Numbers need to be programmed into the phone to be on speed-dial. Quicker for me to call someone _if_ I need to."

"Right," Tony clucked his tongue awkwardly. "Let me make you a better phone."

"No."

"At least a case? This could break apart with a good breeze. I could make-"

"No. It's supposed to be like that. Easier to get to the SIM card if I need to."

She grabbed her phone back out of his hand and got to the door before he finally asked, "So is Clint first on your speed-dial?"

She smirked at him over her shoulder and said innocently, "Why don't you ask him?"

As she spoke Clint walked in through the opposite hallway and Tony made the extra effort to turn and glare individually at them, "I hate when you do that."

Neither acknowledged him but Clint answered his question, "Technically, no."

"There is no technically," Tony said, using air quotes to mock Clint's word choice.

"The number is to a burner phone," Natasha said.

Tony just stared, "Isn't _that_ a burner phone?" He pointed to Natasha's phone.

She looked offended, "No, this is _my_ phone."

Tony threw his hands up, "You two are ridiculous. You seriously think it's too dangerous to have the number- just the number!- to his actual phone- which is as good as a burner phone- so the number you have is to a separate burner phone. Really?"

Natasha's mouth was a hard line and Clint looked uncomfortable. Silence reigned for a heavy minute until Clint spoke, "I was unconscious and they used my phone to get to Nat. So now we have burner phones and codes." 

Tony shifted from foot to foot before blurting out the first thing that came to his head, "So from now on I can just assume there's a horrible story behind every weird thing you guys do and just leave it alone, right?"

Clint shot him a rueful glance but neither assassin corrected him.

"Right, ok. I'm just gonna go call Rhodey, I'm sure he needed me. Super important."


	10. Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the rest of the team sort of catches on, they learn not to underestimate how well traveled their resident assassins are, and it makes them all a little sad

Everyone had settled back into life together with a team of six eventually. There were still missteps, especially if anything reminded them of the Hammer incident, and it was hard to mold everyone into a team when two of them were constantly being pulled away for separate missions.

Tony realized that he was probably pulling at scabs best left alone, but now that he had the time to go back over everything, the outline of Natasha's mission before she'd been kidnapped pulled at his attention.

As he read over the details, easily pulled from SHIELD's files, he realized it wasn't the mission itself, but rather the notion that so many interested groups from several different countries were involved. He was no stranger to business transactions, but clandestine buys had a certain flair that he couldn't help but be intrigued.

Between just Clint and Natasha they'd probably visited the majority of the world. His rough estimate was that they'd each been to every continent except Antarctic at least four times- at the lowest- and with a quick hack into their files before he was booted out.

He tacked a gigantic world map up in the main den and started marking all the places he'd been. Bruce caught on and added his cities, purely to humor him of course. Steve had needed a little persuasion but he'd added a smattering of cities; his tacks were blue.

Tony had chosen a bright red for his and Bruce got green tacks. A smattering of nails marked Thor's destinations; Tony took his entertainment where he could.

He thought for a little bit that one of the assassins had started playing along when gold tacks started popping up but when they started to mirror his usual business routes he realized that Pepper had started playing.

Bored and frustrated, he worked for almost a week to get deeper into SHIELD and pull up as many old mission reports as he could get his electronic hands on. He gave Barton purple tacks and Natasha black ones.

He ran out of tacks long before he ran out of cities that needed tacks.

One morning he was walking past the map and saw that all the purple and black tacks had been taken down and a note was stuck to the map with a pencil jabbed startlingly deep.

The note simply said, _Drop it Stark_.

Well that just wouldn't do.

At dinner the next night he made it a point to steer the conversation in the way he wanted it to go. He wasn't very subtle.

"It's almost pizza night so I vote, instead of the usual down-the-block place, we take my jet to Italy and get some real food. Who's in? Make it a little team-bonding trip, see some sights, get some gelato."

The glares from Clint and Natasha made it obvious that they were aware of his true motivation. The promise of team-bonding got Steve and Thor on board. Bruce glanced speculatively between Tony and the two assassins, sensing that something was up but wisely not commenting. Instead he said, "Sure, I've never been to Italy. It'll be nice to just be a tourist."

"Fantastic. So just waiting on you two now, you in?" Tony gave them an innocent look and the rest of the team turned to look at them as well.

"I'll pass," Natasha said. "Italy and I don't really get along."

Clint nodded, "And I've had my fill of Italy. I have some work to catch up with here."

Tony wouldn't give up that easily, "C'mon, it'll be fun, like Banner said. See the sights, eat some good food."

Thor and Steve both looked pleadingly at their two teammates and Tony felt positively gleeful that the rest of the team was with him on this, even if they weren't aware of his side mission.

Clint glared at him again, "I thought you were going to stop poking your nose where it didn't belong."

"I never said that," Tony shook his head.

"Be assured that there are several horrible stories attached to this and you should leave. It. Alone," despite the implicit threat Natasha looked almost bored.

"I feel like we're all missing something," Steve said. "But the flight would be a good chance for us to talk and we won't be there for long." He looked pleadingly at Clint and Natasha.

Bruce offered a compromise, "How about you tell us where we go, we can avoid a city if you're uncomfortable."

Tony wanted to complain but three glares smartly shut him up.

Clint turned to look at Natasha, cracking his knuckles lazily, and then at the rest of the team before smirking, "You know, this might actually be fun. Do you want to start or should I?"

"Venice," she said.

"Naples," he returned.

"Messina."

"Parma."

"Palermo."

"Turin."

"Livorno."

"Might as well cross all of Tuscany off."

"Yeah. And definitely Milan."

"Pisa and Siena."

"Trieste, but that whole region is too close to Slovenia for me anyway."

"Potenza might be good, it's been a couple years."

"There's some chatter that Pietro's looking to make a move."

"He doesn't have much of a chance with Aldo controlling Puglia and Campania, but good luck to him. So I guess we have to avoid most of the south then."

"Rome?"

"Eh, nothing near the Vatican. Remember?"

"Oh yeah, I can't believe you took that."

"Not my best decision. What's that leave?"

"Best options? Genoa, Bologna, and Florence."

"Eh, Florence is dicey."

"Still? It's been almost seven years."

"He holds one hell of a grudge."

"Francesca's still stationed there right?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll call her at a decent hour and check. If he's out of the city then we're fine, otherwise I vote Genoa."

They turned back to blank stares and wide eyes. Their self-satisfied smirks did nothing to alleviate anything that their four teammates were feeling.

"Well," Bruce looked shaky. "That's terrifying and slightly sad. At least you've seen a lot that Italy has to offer."

Bruce's attempt to salvage the situation was promptly, and brutally, shot down by Clint. "Not much time for sightseeing, unfortunately."

"But you've been so many places," Steve glanced between them.

"How many buildings did you stop and admire in the war, Steve?" Natasha pointed out softly. "Just because we've been to all over the country doesn't mean we were tourists. Usually we avoid the more populated areas if we can; civilians and cameras aren't exactly good for missions."

"Most of the time I'm stuck somewhere watching everything and reporting it or watching everything and waiting for the right time to shoot. Not really free to admire the skyline," Clint shrugged.

"It's good to know the big sites as landmarks and to reorient yourself if you get lost, but that's usually the most use we have for them," Natasha added, somewhat unhelpfully if the looks on everyone's faces was anything to go by. 

Clint tried to move on and waved a hand placatingly, "It's fine though. Florence is perfect, I spent a lot of time there and between me and Francesca we'll be able to find some good places to go. I think this'll be good for all of us."

He gave a wide smile that did absolutely nothing to appease anyone and Bruce kicked Tony under the table, the meaning behind his accompanying glare very clear.


	11. Blending In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finally gets to learn some tricks from spy school and is shown how a real spy can become invisible

Because of his easily recognizable face and his skill at drawing attention to himself whenever he wanted, Tony was quickly delegated to “distraction” when SHIELD needed a quick celebrity appearance to pull everyone's eyes away. They usually used Tony because Steve was too nice to reporters and fans and ended up staying there for hours before someone else had to go and forcibly pull him away. 

Most of the time Tony wasn't briefed about the mission, just told to distract everyone until the signal was given. It was always amusing to watch the footage later to try and see what the agents were doing, and he liked the challenge of not knowing what he was looking for.

Clint had smirked when he and Natasha had found out about his hobby but Natasha had given Tony an approving nod and smacked Barton, “It’s good practice. And you can feel superior later and point out everything Stark missed.”

It was actually a pretty good deal and had the added benefit of helping to mend the rift between him and Clint. That and Tony took to everything like a duck to water. His natural genius helped keep everything straight but the material was fresh and interesting so it wasn't a chore to learn. 

Clint seemed to enjoy knowing more about something than Tony and took the opportunity to show off. Tony never complained because it was fascinating to watch Clint pull apart ops and point out everything going on.

Barton looked the other way when Tony started pulling video feed from ops that he hadn't been part of and Natasha started to join in. He’s not really sure when it became a team thing but Steve joined and then Bruce and Thor tagged along and eventually they all just agreed on a set time so everyone could watch.

From there it morphed into a more informative session rather than the side comments and observations that Clint had given. He and Natasha went through the basics of spy techniques and dragged them to the training room to make sure the lessons stuck.

The majority of it was standard field-craft, the practical bits for civilians who were high-priority targets. Simple codes and phrases to use if they were under duress and couldn’t say it outright, signs they could leave to alert someone to danger, and ways they could identify SHIELD agents in the field. 

Tony especially liked the lesson on pickpocketing and sleight of hand, so much so that the rest of the team had to get twice as good at anticipating and blocking him. One night he managed to get Natasha’s bracelet off without her noticing. It helped that her blood alcohol level was approaching inhuman levels, but that was a minor detail.

One of the more memorable lessons was delivered in a mall of all places. Tony and the team had to watch via camera but it was no less impressive. Even more so because they had access to all mall security cameras and the additional ones that SHIELD had installed for the purpose of the training exercise.

A team of five recruits had to track Clint through the mall. Their goal was to function as a team in the field would and to always have at least one set of eyes on the target. Clint's mission was to identify the agents, having never seen the recruits before this assignment, and lose them without leaving the mall in the two-hour time limit.

Tony watched the cameras eagerly, keeping track of Clint with ease as he moved between customers and in and out of stores, acting for all the world like any other shopper on a busy Saturday. He never ran, never looked over his shoulder, never gave away a hint that he knew he was being observed or that he cared at all to see who was watching him.

There was regular chatter over the comms. as the agents checked in and moved, always keeping an eye on Barton. He was currently on the lower level with one agent nearby and two looking down from an upper level.

Tony kept looking for the catch, knowing Clint would have to so something soon. Ten minutes later Barton ducked into a store and a voice broke the silence, “This is Alpha Three, I’ve lost visual.”

Tony stared unblinkingly at the screen, eyes trained on Clint as the rest of the team checked in and one agent was ordered to go into the store and find him while another kept watch outside.

A man walked briskly out of the store, and it broke Tony’s gaze away from the screen, his eye automatically following the moving figure.

He heard Natasha cover a quick laugh with a cough but he didn’t look away from the man. Tony watched as the man slowed after he turned a corner and walked closer to a crowd, trying to blend in before going over to a kiosk and browsing the calendars displayed. Frowning, Tony looked closer at the screen. Everything looked the same; shoes, jeans, shirt, jacket, hat. 

They watched an agent approach the man and then call over the comm. "It's not him." The agent turned away and moved back to rendezvous with the rest of his team.

“It has to be him,” Tony said dazedly. Bruce looked closer too, both of them commandeering a camera and using it to zoom in on the man. Bruce blew out a breath a moment later and pointed to something on the screen, "He's standing completely differently, all slouched and casual. Barton stands straight up and always ready for a fight, he told us last week to stand balanced in case something happened."

Tony was barely listening and muttered, "That agent saw something that made him sure it wasn't Barton. We haven't gotten a clear view of the guy's face yet. He could be avoiding the cameras."

"Or he could be looking through the calendars before he buys one," Bruce pointed out, then squinted and pointed again. "What's that?"

"What?" Tony looked to where Bruce was pointing. 

"Is that an earring?" 

Tony zoomed in again, grateful that SHIELD had installed their own equipment or they would have been stuck with the pathetically out of date models the mall was using. 

"It's an earring. And there's something on the back of his neck- look, when he turns- there!" Tony pointed too.

"A tattoo," Bruce surmised. 

"So, not Barton," Tony sounded shocked. 

With no idea where Barton was the five recruits had started a sweep of the whole mall. Tony split his attention between watching them and looking at the screens near the store where Barton had last been seen.

“He must have gone the other way after he got that guy to leave. Did he switch clothes with him?” Tony wondered. But no matter how hard he looked though he couldn't find Barton and neither could the recruits.

They spent the rest of the allotted time searching the frames trying to find him but it was next to impossible. When time ran out Tony was close to losing his mind; Bruce had been just as irritated with the exercise as he was and both wanted an answer.

Steve and Thor both admitted with a smile that they had lost Barton in the first 20 minutes and spent the rest of the time watching Tony and Bruce.

Natasha smirked and looked over to the control team running the exercise. “Any of you know where he is?”

They shook their heads.

She smiled and said motioned for the comm. channel to be opened, “Alpha One gather your team and report to the main entrance, transportation is waiting. The training exercise is over.”

Natasha switched channels, “Agent Barton?”

“Yeah?” he sounded bored. 

“You done with your meal?”

“Just about. That’s a damn good milkshake.”

Tony was stuck between laughing and pulling his hair out. “Has he been sitting in the food court the whole time?”

Natasha smiled, “No, only about thirty minutes.”

“Have you identified the recruits?" she asked Clint while grabbing a piece of paper and handing it to Tony. He looked down at five faces and realized it was a picture of each recruit, probably taken right before the training exercise since they were wearing the same clothes. 

"White male early twenties, cropped blond hair, brown eyes, approximately 6', blue tshirt with a stylized 'P' on it, faded jeans and sneakers. Asian female early twenties around 5'8", long black hair in a ponytail with bangs, brown eyes, dimples, yellow dress and white flats, had a black shoulder bag. White male mid thirties around 5'7", trimmed beard, green eyes, dirty blond hair that he's growing out, plaid shirt, khakis and sneakers. Black male late twenties taller than the first guy but probably no more than an inch or so, cropped black hair, brown eyes, plain green collared shirt and khaki shorts with sneakers. And Indian female, mid thirties, 5'5", long brown hair, jeans with a black shirt and blue jacket and sneakers."

Tony stared down at the paper in awe as Clint described each recruit and looked up in time to see Natasha smirking at him before telling Barton, "See you soon.”

She gave the orders to wrap the training exercise up and return to base. Steve and Thor took the car back to the Tower while Bruce and Tony went with Natasha to pick Barton up. 

“How’d you do it?” Tony asked the second he saw Clint.

The archer smirked and tilted his head. Tony frowned until he realized that Barton was showing him an earring and a tattoo on his neck.

“It _was_ you!” Tony laughed, slightly hysterical. “How?”

Clint shrugged, “People trust what they see and if you make them feel like they earned it then they’ll assume they found the right answer. An earring is small, something that could be easily missed. And a tattoo is unique, an identifying mark they weren't expecting. I made sure those would be the first things they saw without making it obvious and they focused on those details and got sloppy, jumping to the conclusion that it wasn’t me without double checking.”

Tony was smiling like a loon; he and Bruce spent the rest of the day and most of the night going back over the video feed and watching Barton disappear.


	12. Precision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High speed car chases only work in the movies

Tony might have skipped his last debriefing. Ok, his last four debriefings. But who was counting?

Stupid question. Coulson was. Of course he was. 

Which is why Tony woke up in a car, confused and groggy. 

"Oh look, you're awake," a voice said sardonically. 

"Don't sound so disappointed," he mumbled, trying to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. 

Red came into focus first and he groaned. "C'mon Natasha. I wanted to make it five in a row."

"You don't want to know what happens to agents who make it five in a row," Natasha returned coolly. 

"I'm not an agent," he quipped. 

"So just think how much less you'll like it than the agents he usually has to discipline."

Tony grimaced, "Fair point. But was the tranq necessary?"

"Not really," Natasha deadpanned. 

He pouted, knowing he couldn't do anything at the moment to get back at her except keep talking until she got annoyed enough. But that came with the risk of another tranquilizer because he wouldn't put it past her to have another one on hand. 

So he looked out through tinted windows and said hesitantly, "This isn't the way to HQ."

No answer. 

Silence didn't sit so well with him.

"This isn't you deliberately making me miss the debrief so you can watch Coulson do whatever he does, right? Because I have to remind you that-"

A sudden burst of speed shoved him back against the seat and lodged his words in his throat. Natasha swerved in the lane, but there was nothing ahead of them for her to avoid. 

"What-"

They were in the right-turn only lane and her right blinker was on. To the day he died he would defend the noise that came out of his mouth as justified and appropriate when Natasha swung around through the intersection, crossing two lanes of traffic and swerving around the oncoming cars to make a left. 

"Whoops," she said blandly. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he bit out, holding the seat for dear life. 

"We're being followed," she sounded bored. "Not sure if they're after you or me. Or if they just recognize the symbol on the car." 

She looked in her side mirror and sighed. Tony looked back as well and saw a car steadily gaining on them. 

"Why aren't you speeding up?" he demanded, definitely not hysterically, thank you very much. 

"High speed car chases are a good way to get killed. Or bring local police right to you. Losing a tail is about patience and precision driving."

Tony watched anxiously as the car settled at a comfortable following distance and Natasha rolled her eyes. Her right hand was fingering the parking break and Tony pulled his seat belt tight. 

Natasha abruptly sped up, passing a car on the left smoothly and changing lanes. Tony decided instantly that watching Natasha's maneuvers would make him sick, so he watched the cars in his own side view mirror and listed all the elements on the periodic table backwards in his head. 

She sped up and slowed down with no warning, changing lanes without signaling, or signaling one way and then going the other. 

"Hold on." 

He looked over while automatically tightening his grip on the seat and his stomach did a little flip when he saw a wild kind of joy in her eyes.

A series of three quick right turns followed, stop lights and signs be damned. They'd looped around to the same road, and were now behind the car following them. 

The knot in his stomach eased a bit when the car made a right and Natasha turned left, finally heading back toward HQ. 

Tony was so grateful to be anywhere that wasn't in the car with Natasha that he behaved perfectly throughout the briefing. He didn't comment when Clint walked in five minutes late with a vague excuse about traffic. He didn't crack a joke when Thor inadvertently left himself open for what would have been a phenomenal innuendo. Once the meeting was over, though, he immediately jumped up, getting an arm about Steve. 

"I think there's more to discuss, I'll ride back with you guys so we can be more productive," Tony said as he rushed them both out the door. Thor and Bruce followed behind looking confused. 

Coulson glanced over to Natasha and Clint with a smirk, "Works every time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I draw a lot of tips and ideas from the show Burn Notice, and this chapter was heavily influenced by a scene in the pilot episode which is one of my favorites.


	13. Getting Sloshed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When is drinking not fun? When it's for a mission.

He’d learned his lesson about watching spy movies (and any movie with an archer or sniper) with either of them nearby, but one of the newer James Bond movies was on TV and Pepper wanted to watch it. Of course Natasha would return from a mission just then. 

“Moron,” she said from somewhere behind them. Tony was pleased that he only jumped out of his seat a little, whereas Pepper was halfway out of her spot on the couch. Tony paused the movie- Bond had nearly died after taking a poisoned drink. 

"Oh, c'mon, I've seen you drink," Tony cajoled, leaning his head back to stare at her.

She nodded, "I do not often drink on my down time, and-"

"Bullshit! You drank at the party, I slipped your bracelet off your hand a-"

"If you think I wasn't aware of that the whole time and let you do it, you're less observant than I thought," she sneered, although her lip twitched at the end, so he wasn't actually sure if she was kidding or not.

"What were you going to say, Natasha?" Pepper asked gamely, the movie forgotten with the prospect of a lesson from Natasha.

The spy settled gracefully onto the edge of a chair opposite them, "Drinking on a mission is an art."

Tony sat up with a wide smile, "Finally, a class in spy school I could pass!"

Natasha rolled her eyes, "It's not just about drinking. It's mostly about not drinking, actually."

"Well that's infinitely less fun," Tony sat back and waved his hand. "Ok, enlighten us. What goes in to this phenomenal art of not-drinking on a mission?"

She looked at him for a moment and shook her head, "I want to see what you can think of. You tell me."

Tony smirked, "I'm over the whole 'embarrass Tony' thing you and Clint have going on where you get to talk down to me because I'm not a spy. You don't get to take away my drinking habits."

Pepper stepped up, "Well, basics are eating beforehand and drinking water."

Natasha nodded, "Good, but you can't always do that in a mission."

“Don't drink anything that might be spiked," Pepper tilted her head to the screen.

"Well. Not always. The needs of the mission might require getting incapacitated or captured. SHIELD has a capsule to flush anything out of an agent's system, so I usually carry that, even if it isn't possible to take immediately after ingesting the drug."

Pepper looked a bit horrified. Tony decided to step in and direct the conversation, "Order drinks with a lot of ice, dilute the alcohol."

That got him a nod, "Clint likes to order a new drink before he's half finished with his first since he's never really perfected the art of the drunk spill, and spilling your drink too often can put a mark off or draw too much attention."

Tony sighed, "Alright, you sucked me in. What else?"

"Well, the art of it comes in the preparation and execution, but it depends on the mission," Natasha smirked. "The needs of an infiltration mission in Austria will require a completely different approach from an intelligence gathering one in Argentina."

Tony blew a raspberry, "Thank you Captain Obvious."

Natasha just leaned back and gestured with her hand for him to continue, so Tony smiled and continued, "Well, the type of alcohol favored depends on the country and it depends on the setting. That's a no-brainer. You show up in a bar in Germany pretending to be a local and ask for an American beer, you deserve to be found out."

“Not necessarily,” Natasha spoke up. "It depends on the cover. You’re either going in as an insider, someone from the culture, in which case it's more straightforward, or you're going in as an outside asset, and then it gets more complicated."

"How so?" Pepper asked. "If you're an outsider you order the American beer, like Tony said."

"Well, it's a matter of degrees. I'm sure you've been to dinners where food was served that you didn't like, but you tried it or ate it anyway to be polite, or- in Tony's case- you wanted to be an asshole about it and made it clear you didn't like the food," Natasha looked to Pepper for confirmation and she nodded. "It's the same with covers. Depending on what my assignment is, it might be best to be arrogant, so I would order something I knew they didn't have there, to make a scene and draw attention. It might be better to seem vulnerable, so I would ask someone there what was best and order that, or get a virgin drink. If I have a mark, I might order what he's drinking, or ask him to order something for me.

"And drinking customs are sometimes even more important than the drink itself. Ask Clint about the time he mispronounced ‘slàinte’ when he was undercover,” Natasha smiled. “That’s a fun drinking story.” 

"What happened?" Pepper asked, half interested and half wary. 

"They shot him."

Pepper blanched. Tony glared, “How can you make drinking not fun?"

“There are a lot of ways," she raised an eyebrow. "Want to swap stories?"

"That's a firm pass," Tony gave a forced smile.

"What about the time at your birthday party-"

Tony twisted back to the movie and turned the volume up as loud as it would go.


End file.
